


Climb Towards the Sky

by crispyjenkins



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Han can and will tell everyone how blue Luke's eyes are, Han is Gay and Luke is Pretty, Kidnapping and Rescue, Leia is long-suffering, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope, Pre-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, in the form of truth serum, now with followup chapter!, slightly angsty, slightly cracky, so are the Imperials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24454339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crispyjenkins/pseuds/crispyjenkins
Summary: It doesn't get any easier when one of them gets captured, no matter how many times the Empire manages to get their claws on them.Luke worries enough for the whole Resistance, of course, because Han might think he can talk his way out of anything, but Luke knows better, and knows his man is one misplaced eye roll from a Spacer's Funeral.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo, Past Leia Organa/Han Solo - Relationship
Comments: 15
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fill for an anon on my tumblr @/crispyjenkins! They wanted Han bragging about how pretty/talented/brilliant his boyf is, and this is almost that. I tried. 
> 
> this is set somewhere in the nebulous time between a new hope and empire strikes back, so sometime pre-hoth.
> 
> Title from AURORA's Awakening.

It doesn't get any easier when one of them gets captured, no matter how many times the Empire manages to get their claws on them. Most of the Resistance agrees that it's always worst when it's Luke, because Darth Vader has a strange obsession with him and they never know if a rescue mission means trying to sneak around the Emperor's right hand. 

With Leia, they mostly have to worry about the body count when they finally reach her, because Force knows she doesn't go, or stay, quietly. 

Han, though, they worry because they don't know if Jabba is somehow behind the hit, if they'll even find him alive when they track him down. Luke worries enough for the whole Resistance, of course, because Han might think he can talk his way out of anything, but Luke knows better, and knows his man is one misplaced eye roll from a Spacer's Funeral. 

So when Han misses a second check-in on what was supposed to be a routine reconnaissance on a planet they’re considering for a Resistance base, Luke groans and sets himself up to be unable to sleep for the next few days.

On the way to the unnamed moon Han’s signal had gone dark on, Leia tries to tell him that Han had probably just forgotten to check in, and that they’re probably worrying for nothing.

“Chewie wouldn’t forget,” he reminds her softly and flicks a few switches to get the  _ Falcon  _ ready for descent.

Leia purses her lips and says nothing else until they’re planetside.

It takes all of ten minutes to find the Imperial outpost, the black building standing out rather dramatically against the light blue sand covering the surface of the moon, and it takes even less to slip into the base. Through the Force, Luke senses five signatures and several droids, and — _ thank Keplar and Ghomrassen— _ Han, who doesn’t feel hurt so much as confused. Leia nods in agreement with his silent question, and they head quickly deeper into the tiny outpost.

They hear Han before they see him.

“And he flies the  _ Falcon _ better’n even Chewie, y’know?” Han’s voice drawls from the only open doorway in the rather short hallway. “Well, not better, but prettier. Kark, have you even seen how pretty his hands are?”

There’s a long-suffering sigh from the room, and one from Leia as she aims her blaster at the ground. “Well, it’s certainly Han, alright,” she mutters, as if Luke hadn’t frozen against the wall in absolute embarrassment. 

Because Han isn’t  _ shy _ about his affection, he’ll tell just about anyone who’ll listen that he’d somehow managed to snag “The Saviour of the Known Universe”, but he usually keeps it under wraps around anyone not in the Resistance; what if someone used them against each other? Against Leia? This is the first time Luke has heard him slip-up around an Imperial.

“Just tell me where your base is so I can kill you,” a new voice pleads, one of two Force signatures in the room that aren’t Han, and even to Luke, it sounds like an empty threat. 

“Base... Base...” Han slurs, and oh kark, had they drugged him? 

Luke looks wildly back at Leia, who has come to the same conclusion and swears under her breath. “Can you take them?” She jerks her head towards the open door. 

Nodding, Luke unhooks his ‘saber from his belt and leads the way down the hall, hoping against hope that Han hasn't said anything the Empire can use.

“‘Don’t know anything about a base,” Han says slowly, “but the last time me’n the kid went to ground– it was this desert planet out in Wild Space, and he grew up in a desert, y’know, so he knew how to keep us alive, and he made this soup-stuff out of this lizard and some sort of bush, I think it was scrag I don’t know, and kark, it tasted awful but it kept us alive, and how smart is that? And he built a fire like it was nothing, and knew how to read the dunes before a sandstorm, and have you seen how blue his eyes are? Probably not the best for bein’ in the sun all the time, but kark, are they pretty.”

If nothing else than to save himself from the mortification, Luke ignites his ‘saber and steps into the room quickly.

Han is strapped to a table with one end raised, and Corellia knows where his vest has gone. Two Imperial officers sit behind a desk on the other side of him, the younger one halfway to his feet at Luke’s sudden entrance, but the older officer looks up tiredly from where his chin leans into his fingers.

He looks Luke up and down before sighing. “You must be the boyfriend, then.”

Luke would honestly rather face Vader right now, especially when Han rolls his head towards the door and notices him. “Kid!” 

“I’ll be taking him off your hands,” Luke tells the Imperials, the older one sighing again as the younger looks like he wants to argue, but thinks better of it. 

“It was just a truth serum,” the younger grumbles, dropping stiffly back into his seat as Leia pushes in behind Luke and heads straight for the terminal against the wall. “But he won’t shut the kark up.”

“Sound like Han,” Leia says with mock cheer, slicing into the terminal to release the cuffs around Han’s wrists and ankles. Han gets himself upright just fine, grinning loopily, but the moment he tries to take a step, he tips forward and Luke has to move quickly to catch him. He turns off his ‘saber so he doesn’t accidentally stab either of them: he trusts Leia and her blaster. 

“Hey, beautiful,” Han slurs as Luke slings one of his arms around his shoulder and gets a grip on his belt.

Despite the situation, Luke finds himself  _ fond, _ and sighs even as he offers Han a small smile. “Leia’s still going to have your dick for getting captured again.”

“Damn straight,” she agrees, snapping binders around the Imperial officers’ wrists before shooting the terminal so they can’t send out any communications. “C’mon, ‘beautiful’, we need to get Chewie.”

They head back towards the stairs to the surface together, but Luke doesn’t follow her when she turns sharply down another hall purposefully; she’s more than capable of sensing and rescuing Chewie on her own, and with Luke supporting more than half of Han’s weight, it’s not like he’d be of any use anyway. 

“You look good in black,” Han says apropos of nothing, head flopping against Luke’s shoulder before he seems to remember how to hold it upright. 

“It’d be so much easier if you were gross about it,” Luke grumbles, hauling him up the stairs and thanking Old Ben’s ghost that he can supplement his strength with the Force.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Han scrunches his face cutely, an expression he would never have allowed had he been sober. 

“I could hate you if you were gross about it,” he says, though he isn’t sure what he hopes to accomplish with Han drugged to Corellian Hells and back. “And that won’t work on Leia.”

“Mm,” Han grunts in agreement, going slightly cross-eyed in an attempt to focus on the steps underneath his feet. “S’fine, she’s not as pretty as you.”

Luke has to close his eyes and beg the Force for patience, because nobody calls Luke Skywalker, a farmboy from Tatooine  _ pretty, _ or  _ beautiful, _ or  _ talented, _ or at least they hadn’t before Han Solo. He’s almost grateful Han had latched onto Leia first, because it means that by the time that ship had flown, Han already knew Luke almost as well as he knew himself. 

“You’re the worst,” he sighs, shouldering open the last door out into the desert night, and drags Han towards the  _ Falcon. _

“He’s finally asleep,” Leia says as she drops into the copilot’s seat, settling in to help get them out of atmo. “Chewie’s fine, only needed a little bacta.”

Luke shoots her a smile, and hopes she knows how dead they’d all be without her. “Has Han begged for forgiveness yet?”

She snorts, inputting the coordinates for their first hyperspace jump. “The Imp was right: he wouldn’t shut the fuck up, at least not until I knocked him out. If I have to hear him wax poetic about your flying skills even one more time, I’m throwing him out the airlock.”

Wincing, Luke fiddles with a few settings to avoid looking at her. “He didn’t used to do this with you?”

“Kark no,” she grumbles. “We were too busy arguing to get  _ soft _ for each other. Luckily he didn’t spill anything more important while with the Imps, and Admiral Ackbar is sending a nearby team to finish taking down the outpost.”

Luke nods slowly, just thankful they hadn’t had to kill anybody in their rescue attempt. Leia seems disappointed for just that reason, and that’s definitely something they’ll have to talk about someday, but for now, Luke lets himself slump into the pilot’s seat and tiredly guide them all back home. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a small followup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had a lovely anon ask for more, and i got soft while writing it.

The ship hums around them, distant and metallic and _home_ , in ways Tatooine never was. The recycled air is stale and too-warm in an attempt to combat the space chill, and the familiarity eases the persistent knot in Luke's chest that hasn't left since he followed Old Ben to Mos Eisley. 

He leans against the wall by the head of their bunk with Han between his legs, arms wrapped around Luke's middle with his head pillowed on his sternum. The position should be uncomfortable, and maybe Luke will have a crik in his neck in the morning, but he isn't going to move even if Vader kicks down the door. 

Well, maybe he'd move for Vader, but only because Han would get pissy at him if Luke didn't wake him up for something that important. 

Curling his fingers into the longer hair at the nape of Han's neck, Luke runs his other hand down his bare back and smiles as Han snuffles and tightens his arms around him. _Like a cat_ , he thinks sleepily, rubbing his thumb over the mole just below Han's right shoulder blade. 

Somewhere in the bowels of the _Falcon_ , Chewie is upgrading their vaporator, but Han's quarters are far enough away that Luke can't hear him. Hyperspace moves by them outside the tiny viewport that Han leaves uncovered, despite the threats of hyper-rapture; Luke supposes Han has never been one for superstition anyways. 

Idly, he wonders if the Force could protect someone from going mad, staring at the lightyears slipping past, or if he should be worried about these late nights where he does nothing but that. Twenty is too young to go mad, Luke thinks, but if there was ever a place to achieve it, it’s twelve cycles into a hyperspace jump. He honestly forgets how many they have left.

Han’s arms twitch again, but he doesn’t wake, dragging his nose over Luke’s stomach as he turns his face to the wall instead. Luke releases his hair just long enough for him to get settled again, before putting his fingers back against his scalp. Hm, maybe it isn’t the Force, but Han, that keeps him from going mad.

Luke closes his eyes and reaches out with the Force, feeling every wire and circuit of the _Falcon_ , following their little points of light until he finds Chewie in the engine room. Wookie signatures aren’t completely dissimilar to humans’, but to Luke, they feel tactilly different, almost like static as he brushes against them. He would almost call it _fuzzy_ if the thought didn’t make him want to laugh.

Chewie is content in his monotonous work, possibly even more relaxed than Han is, and seems to sense Luke reaching out for him. He doesn’t think Chewie is Force sensitive, so much as Force aware, and with a smile, Luke pulls back into himself to leave his friend be.

He opens eyes he hadn’t realised he had closed, to find Han’s chin propped on his chest, watching him. Luke blinks and raises a silent eyebrow, and Han raises one right back. 

“Where do you go when you get like that?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Luke’s breastbone.

Wriggling against the tickle of his lips, Luke pushes Han’s bangs off of his face and quirks a tired smile. “‘Was checking in on Chewie.”

Han snorts, turning to his head to kiss the centre of Luke’s palm next. “What’d I say about that magic nonsense while on my ship?”

“Oh please, the _Falcon_ is practically Chewie’s, and _he_ likes my nonsense.”

Grunting, Han swipes his thumb over the jut of Luke’s hip, and the movement isn’t heated, it’s soft and comforting and without expectation, just Han reminding him he’s there. The bandage on his hand catches at Luke’s skin and makes his stomach sink. “Her worshipfulness may let you get away with your creepy Jedi powers, but it’s only ‘cause she’s jealous I’m in your bed and not— Why are you looking at me like that, kid?”

“Hm,” Luke laughs behind closed lips and wonders who Han is trying to fool. “Hey, promise me something?”

The raised brow is back, as Han props himself up until they’re almost nose-to-nose. “I don’t make promises,” he says, while his little smile says something else entirely.

“Stop getting karking kidnapped.”

Han blinks and startles out a gruff laugh, dropping his head back onto Luke’s chest. “Oh, believe you me, kid, I’m sick of playing damsel in distress,” he rumbles over Luke’s heart, kissing the scar there before looking back up at him. “I don’t make promises,” he says again, a little softer and a lot more sincere, and Luke can read between the lines.

“I know,” Luke murmurs back, thunking his head back against the wall and turning back towards the viewport. Han lets him, because they’re at _war_ , and Han remembers a time when they weren’t. 

He strokes Luke’s hip again all the same. 


End file.
